


Devils and Black Sheep

by the_dormouse



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Gen, Pirate AU, Pirates, gandalf is vague!, more tags to be added as and when
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dormouse/pseuds/the_dormouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pirate AU. Until Gandalf Greybeard turned up, Bilbo Baggins was a most respectable businessman trader, and very well thought of. Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected. And he CERTAINLY didn’t fraternise with pirates...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devils and Black Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Before we start may I state for the records that I am in no way an expert in either Tolkien canon of 18th century piracy. Any major factual errors are purely the fault of the author who will try and deflect all blame by citing the excuse that it's an AU. 
> 
> I'm kidding, but advance warning, there will be some serious artistic licence in play here. Also a mix of book and movie canon as is applicable. Enjoy!

Mr Bilbo Baggins (esquire) was a perfectly respectable trader, thank you very much. He came from a long and noble line of perfectly respectable traders, who never did anything risky or unexpected, and thus had continued to make a steady fortune that way.

That was, of course, until his father had quite unexpectedly up and married a Took, of all people, a London-based society family whose habits were, well...improper, to say the least. Indeed, Mrs Belladonna Baggins (previously Took) was a frequent topic of much gossip and debate among the other ladies of The Shire trading partnership, as it was said that she had taken many a sea voyage _even after she were wed._

Well. It simply wasn’t proper.

Over the tops of their fine china teacups, the ladies would sigh and thank the good lord for Mr Bungo Baggins, a dependable and predictable sort, who between you and me, could have married far better. The fine house on the hill that he had built for his new bride was ocular proof that Bungo had thrived in the shipping industry. He did not, however, relish the prospect of a sea voyage as much as his wife did, instead chancing to pass on his tendency for seasickness to the couple’s son, Bilbo. But he loved her devoutly, and where she went, he would duly follow, until their older years when he finally convinced her that remaining on land was far preferable. Settling in the house in Bristol, he would continue running the business up until the day he died, leaving it then in his son’s capable hands.

Bilbo Baggins was an eligible young man, a nice and upstanding gentleman, who enjoyed the comforts of home and thankfully for the most part had grown out of his mother’s inherited lust for adventure (most unseemly).

The varying adventures of Belladonna Baggins, as thrilling as they were, are not what this particular tale is about. No, this story is about Master Baggins, and how he did something that really was most unexpected.

April that year was bright and blustery. The sea breeze from the channel that stole up the streets from the harbour still carried a chill within it, which nipped at any exposed hands and faces. 

“Blow the cobwebs away!” Bilbo Baggins would state with contented relish to nobody in particular that morning. He breakfasted alone, as usual, whilst having his usual cursory glance through the newspapers that the new maid had almost flung down onto the table cloth with a scared little curtsey. Slightly surprised, he had glanced up from his porridge and given her what he sincerely hoped was an encouraging sort of smile, but the poor girl just turned even paler and scurried from the breakfast room.

Baffled, Bilbo returned his attention to his breakfast and the news, his gaze falling upon yet another report from the colonies. _Pirates._ A chill ran down his spine and despite the warmth of his new waistcoat and the porridge in his belly, he shivered. Another port had been attacked, dozens slaughtered, the treasury and armoury both looted. A very sad state of affairs. Living so near to the water, Bilbo often heard countless tales of piracy through the harbour grapevine.  Ships attacked with every poor soul aboard condemned to death or slavery, or both, or worse! Vessels crewed by the damned and captained by men so evil, that Hell itself spat them back from whence they came, who burnt innocent ships to blackened crumbling hulls and left no survivors.

All amounted to just one more reason as to why Bilbo far preferred to remain on dry land. Besides, there was no aspect of the business he couldn’t oversee from his comfortable, cosy office, with its soft chair and well-stocked hearth. More to the point, well-to-do gentlemen did not go running off to sea and into the unknown like a common tar. Respectability. That was the key to a successful and long-lasting business. It was how Bungo had done things after all and Bilbo had no plans to change.

After eating, he fetched his sensible, warm coat and prepared to go into town. He was keen to check in with the owner of a new merchant trader, Brandybuck and Sons, who had set up office near the docks, and he liked to check in with his captains and harbour workers in person.

The route he took to the waterfront was a familiar one, as he took it almost every day. Down the hill, he walked, the streets becoming busier and busier. The city had fully awoken by now and people from all walks of life passed him as he headed to the docks. Carts and carriages rumbled past, and snatches of conversation filled the air as they slipped by.

“- A shilling? A shilling? S’outrageous, I’ve half a mind to tell him I know it’s dog meat...”

“- And she point blank refuses to marry him! I told her, if she can’t see past a few measly dozen pox scars...”

“- killed in their beds, last thing anyone on the watch saw was dark blue sails disappearing round the cliffs...”

The sounds of the gulls filled the air, mingled with the shouts of the sailors and creaking sails as Bilbo finally left the narrow streets and emerged into the open air of the docks. The place was abuzz with activity. A small gaggle of barefoot children ran past, shouting curses and play battle cries at each other.

“Die, pirate scum! I’ll ‘ave you!”

A few of the regular faces nodded and touched their caps to him as he passed.

“Mornin’ Mr Baggins.”

He was so distracted returning the greeting to another trader, that quite by accident he walked straight into another fellow, almost knocking the both of them to the ground.

“Pardon me guv’nor.” The man said quickly, with a swift, abashed bow of his auburn head.

“My fault, my fault completely! Sorry!” Bilbo replied, stepping past. The man shuffled off, still muttering muted apologies. Thinking nothing more of it, Bilbo continued on his way until he reached a string of shop fronts and offices, situated mere feet from the ships themselves.

“Good morning Hamfast!” He called towards the ajar office door which bore the name ‘Baggins Family Traders’.

Bilbo liked Hamfast Gamgee. Like him, he was a dependable, predictable sort, who always had the latest news and gossip and was reassuringly distrustful of boats and water. Like Bilbo again, he stayed determinedly on land and oversaw the transfer of goods on and off ships, as well as keeping note of the names of the sailors in their employment. Hamfast quickly herded one of his various offspring away from the doorway, one of several who always tagged along in hopes of joining in the harbour children’s games, and turned to greet his employer.

“Good mornin’ Mr Bilbo!” He called, before launching into his customary spiel. “It’s a fine day for business, an’ make no mistake. None of the companies are reporting losses and the tide is kind today. The harbourmaster wants another three pounds for that wall the sailor’s damaged last week whilst unloadin’. I’ve told him Mr Baggins, they weren’t on our payroll, no, but he won’t budge on it an’ says it was on our watch.”

Bilbo whistled low in disbelief. “Three pounds! Well if he insists...” He reached for his pocket, his fingers closing on empty air, before a sinking sense of realisation set in.

_“Pardon me guv’nor!”_ A bumping nudge. A smile, quick as the flick of a knife. Nothing more, nothing distinctive or memorable. And then gone, vanished into the hustle and bustle. Damn him!

“Bother.” Bilbo muttered darkly, taking his hand from his now empty pocket. “Bother and blast it.” It was the oldest trick of the book for cutpurses and rogues, and like a fool, he’d fallen for it. “I am sorry Hamfast, I’ll have to come back later. Some rascal’s relieved me of my money.”

“No hurry, Mr Bilbo.” Hamfast replied. “That’s a nasty bit of misfortune, but the money can wait. Everythin’s running smooth as clockwork otherwise.”

“Excellent.” Bilbo replied faintly, still irritated about the theft. “Like clockwork.” And it was excellent, in its own way. Nothing unusual, nothing out of the ordinary. Bar his unfortunate run in with the pickpocket, it had been a completely unremarkable day all in all. As always.

But then, like tempting fate with his idle musings, Bilbo had met Mr Gandalf Grey.

“Can I help you?” Bilbo inquired. He had spotted the tall and distinguished looking gentleman peering critically through the window of his front rooms as he’d re-entered the street. Separated from his money, he had seen little point in remaining out and about and had begun the return journey home. Hamfast had promised to report the theft to the harbourmaster, in hopes that the scoundrel would attempt another such crime, and could this time be caught in the act.

The man turned and stared critically at him. “I’m not sure. Can you? Only you can answer that, Master Baggins and therefore only you know if you can help.”

This perplexing statement threw Bilbo somewhat and he opened and shut his mouth several times before being able to articulate an answer. The man was a strange one, for more than the fact that he seemed to already know Bilbo’s name. Far taller than he, and dressed head to toe in varying hues of grey, the man’s coat was fastened with gleaming silver buttons and buckles. His equally grey hair was far longer than was the fashion, tied back with a pale blue ribbon, the one splash of colour in his monochromatic appearance, and his beard was long and most unkempt. If it wasn’t for the quality and cleanliness of his clothing, Bilbo would have almost been tempted to suspect the man as pirate.

“I’m sorry,” He tried again “Have we met?”

The man’s bushy eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Bilbo down his long, crooked nose. “Gandalf Grey.” His voice rumbled in reply “I am a representative of The Maiar Ship Builders.”

Bilbo frowned in confusion. This man, Gandalf, had offered no hand to shake, no seal or business card. It was most unusual and not to mention, improper. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the company.”

Gandalf nodded stiffly. “I assumed you wouldn’t be. We tend to do business in the colonies in the Far East.”

“I see?” Bilbo didn’t really see, but his manners dictated that he should nod and agree.

The new arrival continued; “I’m looking for somebody to partake in a long sea voyage, and so far it’s been rather difficult to find anyone suitable.”

“Ah, well, that’s not me either I’m afraid.” Bilbo replied, visions of his last attempt to travel by sea flashing across his mind. They’d barely made it out of the Bristol Channel when he’d been forced to rush to the starboard side of the ship, vomiting copiously over the side. He had been fifteen years old. “We Bagginses don’t tend to do well on ships – no, not at all. Much better on dry land and making plans from there.”

“Is that so?” Gandalf sighed heavily and his eyes seemed to darken in disappointment. “To think,” He disdainfully mused aloud “that Belladonna Took’s only son would grow into such a disgrace of a landlubber!”

“You – you knew my mother?”

Gandalf sighed again pointedly. “You really don’t remember me, do you? A pity, for I remember you well, Master Baggins. The young lad sliding down the banisters, playing at soldiers and re-enacting his mother’s stories, always running down to the waterfront in search of pirates...”

Bilbo laughed nervously. “Well, that might have been me once upon a time Mr Grey, but I grew up, and I learnt the truth about the world. And about pirates! Pirates! Terrible, brutal fellows – as a matter of fact, I am quite sure one pick pocketed me only an hour ago!” He coughed awkwardly, a humiliated blush rising in his cheeks. “Yes, I am quite glad I grew out of that morbid fascination!” He suddenly felt deeply at unease. Here he was, condemning the life of piracy to a man who knew more about him than Bilbo he, and in full view of the neighbours too! He cleared his throat pointedly.

“I’m very sorry, but wherever you’ve come from – the Far East, or over the water – you’ve had a wasted journey. We’ll have no sea voyages here, thank you, good morning!” With that final flourish, Bilbo the open the front door and almost fell inside, quickly shutting out Gandalf Grey and all that ridiculous talk of adventures. His sudden and harried entrance practically traumatised the poor nervous maid from earlier, and as she ran off, squeaking in alarm, Bilbo sighed into worn wool of the doormat and decided that between the pickpocket and Gandalf Grey, he had had quite enough excitement for one day.

Fortunately the rest of the week slipped by with little incident. Grey did not return after Bilbo’s abrupt dismissal of him on the doorstep and Bilbo decided that that would be the end of it. He obtained himself a new wallet and was very wary for the next few days of whom he was passing and the state of his pockets. Life very quickly returned to normal, and even the new maid stopped rapidly paling whenever he spoke to her.

Admittedly she was still yet to respond to anything to anything he said with any more than a breathy ‘yessir’, but it was progress nevertheless. The staff of the house kept themselves to themselves – believing they inhabited a different class world to the wealthy Bilbo and quite happy to keep it that way. That was another reason why Bilbo frequented the docks every day. There at least he was spoken to as an equal, even if it was by people in town for mere days, then off across the sea never to be heard from again.

“There’s strange folk about, mark my words.” Hamfast stated resolutely, narrowing his eyes as he stared out across the harbour. A full week had passed and the two men were sat in the dockside office swapping snippets of news. “An’ I don’t trust this accursed fog...s’unnatural.”

“Strange folk?” Bilbo echoed, suddenly reminded of that Gandalf fellow. He followed Hamfast’s gaze to where a thick fog was creeping in across the stones of the harbour. The majority of the populace had retreated inside, leaving only the hardiest sailors in sight, doing any jobs they could. “Goodness. Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” He rose from the chair and stretched. “Anyway, I should be off. Nearly time for dinner. Good day Hamfast.”

“Good day Mr Baggins.”

Hamfast’s warning soon slipped from Bilbo’s mind as he returned home that afternoon. His thoughts were instead filled with shipping lanes and order numbers and his beloved maps, passed down from his father, which he kept unfurled on display in his study. Every evening before supper he liked to study the maps, even though some of them were quite out of date. He liked to pick a point far away from Bristol, either east or west, as far as people had reached – the Caribbean, the Americas, the new settlements in far off India. And then there were the parts that truly fascinated him – the last blank, unexplored spaces of the map. Who could say what horrors lay there?

It was looking at said spaces that Bilbo recalled his odd encounter with Gandalf Grey. A man looking for accomplices for a sea voyage – but he’d never said where. Odd, as every voyage had some manner of heading planned from the very beginning. Perhaps it was somewhere exciting and dangerous, plagues with pirates and sea monsters and savage inhabitants...

“Your Took side is showing.” He admonished sternly to himself and the dying embers of the fire. “You are a Baggins, through and through. A respectable gentleman trader, you do not go running off on some madcap venture with no heading!” And with that final decision made, he doused the office lamps and headed downstairs to make himself a warm drink before bed.

But as darkness fell that evening, and the city went to bed, half a dozen long boats slipped silently, and unnoticed, into the harbour.


End file.
